Ticking
by MissFuneralSong
Summary: There's always been ticking. Ever since he was small, ticking, quiet and gentle at the base of his skull. Each tick marking another second gone from his life. A Sylar character piece


Ticking.

There's always been ticking. Ever since he was small, ticking, quiet and gentle at the base of his skull. Each tick marking another second gone from his life. Ticking, time passing, slowly. Things mark it, birthdays, events, but the only marker for him is the soft sound, like some great organic clock, like _he _is the clock, ticking away patiently. Day to day life is punctuated by it, his work, his thoughts, his spare time; everything. He doesn't mind. He quite likes it. It's organised, it keeps everything in its place and running smoothly, nails down things that are daunting so that he can handle them.

His job is daunting. Simple but daunting, because it's what his father wanted and he isn't sure --

_(tick)_

His mother is daunting. She loves him, he knows this, but she's never satisfied, always telling him he can do better, but why should he? He doesn't need to be special, he --

_(tick)_

That's how it is; there's worry, uncertainty, there always is in everything he does, but the calmness of _him the clock_, solid and in control with the ticking right there in the back of his mind, lets him take the worries apart like one of his timepieces. He finds the parts in the problem that make it a problem and he fixes it, and then everything is all right. It's always all right. Think of everything as a timepiece; that way, there's nothing he can't repair.

And he listens. He listens to the ticking of the world as well, it's just as important, his rhythm and all the other rhythms ticking out of time but blending, flowing together and forming existence. He likes this. And he takes the watches and he listens to them and knows them in a way others can't, and it makes him feel significant. His mother wants that. Does he want that, though? Because it's a good feeling, powerful feeling, but maybe too much and he might --

_(tick)_

Then one day the man comes and gives him the book, and he reads it and it tells how to be special; how other people do it and maybe how he can do it, too. This is exciting, and the ticking is louder and lower now, dull thump at the back of his head but he doesn't notice, because it's been building up all this time and it will keep building up, he can feel that as sure as he can feel the ticking of the world.

The man meets him again and they do tests, and the man is dismayed and he doesn't understand why the man is dismayed; he is special, can't the man see that? He is special just like his mother wants and maybe if he just had more _time _--

_(tick)_

But of course he has more time. He is the clock, he has _all _the time, he will make things wait until he is ready. He meets another man when he is ready, and this man is nervous and this man is small and this man is _insignificant_ and he doesn't want his specialness. This man is broken, but that's all right, because broken is easy to fix. Just take it apart.

He takes it apart. And he screams but no sound comes out because in the moment of fixing he is not _him _anymore, he is someone else. This someone doesn't leave the clock to tick and tick as he did, this someone looks at the clock and says _you're not right _and changes it with blood. More and more blood everywhere, more and more special, and he watches all the things the someone does through his own eyes and he can't _stop_.

This is a worry. This is beyond a worry. He doesn't know what to do and the ticking won't help him, the ticking works only for this someone now. It's getting darker and darker all around him like the someone is turning off lights and trying to suffocate him with darkness and he doesn't know and he can't stop it and there's no _ticking_ --

_(tick)_

He remembers. When he can't tick, his mother will fix him. He goes, the someone goes, and he wants to be fixed and the someone wants to see him proved wrong and he stands there. Staring. He stares at her and the ticking is there again but somehow it's not working, everything is still different and the dark is closing in. One last chance to fix him, one last and he begs her. She stares back while he begs her and she says _no. _She says _be special_. She denies him repair and the ticking is louder and the ticking, the _ticking_, resonates with the dark and comes up underneath and swallows him while the someone is triumphant and smiles and he screams but he can't make noise because his ticking is broken but the someone's ticking is not and he can't move and he can't breathe and he _has to be special_ --

_(ti --)_

And he is gone.


End file.
